


That Thin Line In and Out of My Bed

by fadedhues



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive!Laura, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, CEO!Derek, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, assistant!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedhues/pseuds/fadedhues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ow,” Derek says, scowling, rubbing his bicep where Laura hit him. </p><p>She retorts, “That’s what happens when you zone out and eye-fuck your new assistant, Derek,” crossing her arms and jutting a hip out. </p><p>(aka the one where Derek is a CEO of his family's company; enter Stiles, his new assistant, who happens to be extremely fuckable)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Wanna Break You

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, well. Office sex. Kind of.
> 
> I have a drabble [tumblr](http://drabbledreams.tumblr.com/) and a regular [tumblr](http://fadedhues.tumblr.com/), if you care to know.
> 
> Comments are grand. This is unbeta'd, and it's 2:46 in the morning, so don't be surprised if you find a mistake. I'm listening to Macklemore. You can thank him and Ryan Lewis for the song "Thin Line," from where the title of this ficlet comes. 
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> ***OKAY. SO. THIS HAS 19 COMMENTS, EACH ASKING ME TO CONTINUE, WHICH IS MORE THAN I'VE EVER GOTTEN ON A ONESHOT. THEREFORE, IT'S A WIP. Now, I am a busy busy lady (or, you know, 17 year old girl woman lady thing), so I know exactly how this is happening. Each chapter/part/whatever is going to be appx 1k. I'm probably gonna post chapters every other day. SO, this will be completed by Sunday.

Derek Hale is many things.

Derek Hale is bossy, brooding, snarky, a CEO of a family-owned corporation, an ex-gym rat, and easily annoyed.

Derek Hale is not, much to his dismay, an only child.

While this is something that he laments every day, it is especially upsetting right now.

“What do you mean, you fired my assistant?” he snarls at Laura from behind his desk.

Lips pursed as she studies her (rather expensive) manicure, she replies, “She had it coming.” She smoothes the hand she had been looking at down her red blazer and plucks what is most likely a cat hair off her sleeve.

Derek can feel what little patience he had left for the day slip away (seriously, Mondays _suck,_ there needs to be a new company policy to have every other Monday off or something), and bites out, “And why, pray tell, did she have it coming?”

“She slipped and fell,” Laura answers with a shrug.

He looks at her warily. There’s a punch line coming, he can _feel_ it. “Slipped and fell _where_?”

“Onto Steven’s dick,” she spits, eyes flashing, and Derek rolls his chair backwards a few inches in surprise (Laura’s ability to go from sweet to ferocious, or vice versa, in an instant is a gift that Derek is thankful for in the business world, but he hates being on the end of it. Laura is a _scary woman_ ).

“Oh,” he finally says, because Steven, who works in Peter’s department, and Laura have been dating for about five months. Laura had chosen to ignore the rumors of infidelity surrounding the much older man (alright, not _much_ ; it’s maybe a six year age difference, but Derek has never liked him because of it), which she’s probably regretting right now.

“I’m never dating a colleague again, Der,” she says dramatically and drops into a chair, eyes no longer blazing with the _fire of a thousand suns_ (seriously, Laura is _not_ the woman you want to piss off).

“I’m guessing you fired him too, then.”

“The best job that fucker will ever get now is a bag boy in a grocery store,” she barks, and Derek winces.

“Ouch.” Derek almost feels sorry for the man. _Almost_. But not really.

“Yeah, well.” She tilts her head to the side and frowns. “Anyway, I’ve hired you a new assistant. Because, you know,” she flashes her perfect white teeth at him, “I’m an amazing sister.”

Derek snorts, and Laura’s grin disappears. He finds himself on the end of her third-best glare (the one that says, _“You’re annoying me, but you’re not worth my anger. Dumbass”_ ) and quickly continues, “When is he or she starting?”

Laura smirks. “ _His_ name is Stiles, and he’s starting today. Erica’s showing him around.” She uncrosses her legs, red pumps catching the sunlight from the window, and stands. “Let’s go find them.”

Derek sighs and follows her out of his office. Laura stops in front of Boyd’s office and leans against the doorframe; Derek rolls his eyes and prepares himself for the flirting. “Hey, do you have the financial update on the Harris situation?” she asks.

“Yeah, it’s right next to my fire-breathing dog,” Boyd deadpans before shifting his attention back to his computer, patting the huge stack of paper (Derek is willing to bet that the Harris files are at the bottom of the pile) next to his coffee mug, and Laura laughs.

“Beer later?”

“Now _that_ I can do,” he replies without looking from the screen, and she raps her knuckles on his door in reply.

“What was that you said about dating colleagues, again? Oh, right, that you _weren’t going to do it_ ,” Derek snarks as the two continue walking.

Laura flips her hair over her shoulder and huffs. “ _One_ , Boyd and I aren’t dating. _Two_ , I don’t recall ever saying such a thing.”

“Right, right, must be my over-active imagination,” he comments dryly.

Laura elbows him, grinning. “Shut up. Anyways, there’s Stiles.” She points at a young man talking to Erica and Scott. Stiles (what kind of name is that?) is tall and slim, with attractively messy hair and hands that fly around as he speaks. His nose is upturned and his lips are really pink and _damn_ , Derek wants to _fuck him into the ground_.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so heavily and instantly attracted to someone. Whether it’s the lips (that were obviously made to wrap around dicks, specifically Derek’s) or the hair (which is the ideal length to grab onto while said lips are wrapped around Derek’s dick) or the skin (pale and obviously begging for Derek to mark), Derek is instantly imagining very, very nice sex with Stiles.

He’s imagining pushing Stiles against the wall and kissing him before biting and sucking his way down Stiles’ neck. He’d eventually strip them both and bend Stiles over his desk, positioning him exactly where he wants and growling, “Stay still,” in his ear. Stiles would shiver and comply as Derek grabs the emergency lube and condoms he keeps under old files in his locked drawer. He’d stretch Stiles out and tease him, work him until he’s sweating and blushing and whining and trying to push back to fuck himself on Derek’s fingers. “Please,” he’d whimper, and then Derek would roll the condom on, fingers probably trembling a little at the sight of the pale and lithe man begging him, _needing_ him, and then he’d slick himself up and push in slowly, slowly, reveling in the _feel_ of Stiles. He would stay still and Stiles would whine, “ _Derek_ ,” and then—

he’d get punched in the arm, apparently. “Ow,” Derek says, scowling, rubbing his bicep where Laura hit him.

She retorts, “That’s what happens when you zone out and eye-fuck your new assistant, Derek,” crossing her arms and jutting a hip out.

“Was not,” he mutters.

“What-the-fuck-ever.” She eyes him judgmentally and stabs a finger in Stiles’ direction. “Go over there and introduce yourself. Don’t be creepy.”

“You always say that,” he complains, “But I’m really not—”

“You literally just zoned out and imagined doing God-knows-what with the kid. Don’t,” she smacks his arm to reiterate (Laura, in addition to being an absolute _maniac_ , is very violent), “be creepy.”

In all honestly, it’s probably easier said than done. This is, after all, Derek’s life. 


	2. Eat Each Other Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica spots Derek and her eyes light up, red lips curling into her trademark wolfish grin, and Derek resists the urge to rub his forehead. He’s really not going to get a chance to give Stiles a good impression if people keep talking about how scary he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3:08 in the morning. So there's probably a mistake. And this probably isn't great.
> 
> Today is Tuesday; therefore, part 3 should go up on Thursday and part 4 on Saturday. 
> 
> I'm intensely overwhelmed by the feedback I've gotten (20 comments??????). Wow thanks um????? dklvjrmkglmerk???? I don't know what the proper etiquette for this is do I reply to them or??????????? THANKS SO MUCH I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU OKAY

Derek clears his throat and fixes his plain blue tie. “Right. Not creepy. I am—yep. Not creepy.”

Laura gives him what she probably thinks is a friendly and encouraging smack on the arm (in reality, it hurts like a bitch. Laura is freakishly strong, okay?) and grins. “That’s the spirit! Remember—respect the personal space bubble, no glaring, no _scary_ _growling_ —”

“That was _one time_!” Derek complains, because it hadn’t been _his_ fault the intern had spilled coffee over Derek’s shirt two minutes before his first solo meeting with a client.  

Derek has a policy against allowing interns into his department for a reason.

Laura fixes him with her _I-don’t-think-you-can-win-this-one_ stare and says, “The poor boy nearly pissed himself, Der. We had to relocate him under advisement from HR.”

In Derek’s defense, Paul Newkirk now works in Laura’s department and seems to be doing just fine, though he still avoids Derek like the plague (it’s been two years, you think the guy could at least stand in an elevator with him, but evidently not).

Derek knows when to cut his losses and sighs, “Okay, no growling, got it, whatever.” She nods at him in approval and he moves towards Scott, Erica, and Stiles— _don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy_.

He joins the group in time to hear Scott say, “Yeah, Derek’s pretty chill. He can be pretty scary sometimes, though, so be sure not to fuck up his coffee. Just avoid the sugar and you should be fine.”

Erica spots Derek and her eyes light up, red lips curling into her trademark wolfish grin, and Derek resists the urge to rub his forehead. He’s really not going to get a chance to give Stiles a good impression if people keep talking about how scary he is. “I get my own coffee these days, thank you very much,” he butts in from his place behind Scott.

Scott makes a choked noise and whirls around, eyes wide and mouth twisted in a caricature of a grin. “Derek! Hey, man! What’s—”

“Go get the Harris files from Boyd and get started on those,” he orders, grinning in spite of himself. Scott really is a good kid; he’s pretty smart (though it took Derek a couple of days to realize that Scott’s goofball exterior did not automatically make him a dumbass) and generally nice and _incredibly_ head over heels for Allison Argent, who works in the company’s PR department (and not that Scott looks for Derek’s approval in his personal life, but if there was anyone Derek would want Scott dating in the company, it’d be Allison).

(Okay, maybe there _should_ be a company policy on dating colleagues after all. This is kind of getting ridiculous.)

Scott looks relieved to be dismissed. “Got it! Good luck on your first day,” he tells Stiles before darting towards Boyd’s office.

Derek opens his mouth to greet Stiles before remembering that Erica is standing _right there_ , grin still plastered on her face. He looks at her and then flicks his eyes towards the cubicles, silently telling her to _go away can’t you see I’m about to try to welcome my new assistant in an entirely professional manner despite my overwhelming attraction to him?_

Erica rolls her eyes and huffs in a way that Derek knows he’s going to hear a lot of gossip about this very soon. “Bye!” She runs a hand through her curls and disappears behind a nearby cubicle.

Derek denies himself the opportunity to fully run his eyes up and down Stiles and sticks his hand out. “I’m Derek Hale. I’m in charge of the financial department.” Obviously. _Wow, great job, Derek. You’re so eloquent. It’s a wonder you actually get to interact with clients._

Stiles shakes his hand and states, “I’m Stiles Stilinski. It’s—” he hurries to continue, “a nickname. Don’t ask.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t going to, but thanks for sharing.”

“Oh.” Stiles flushes a little and rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the other toying with a black button on his soft-green button down. “My b. Ah, anyways, thanks for hiring me. I’ve been trying to get a serious job since college, but I’ve kind of been floating from one food chain job to the next.”

Derek lets him blab on about what he had been studying in college and how hard it was to get a proper job even _with_ a college education, doesn’t that just suck, and man, this kid can _talk_. Derek wonders for a second if Stiles is this vocal during sex, if he’d moan around Derek’s cock, if he would loudly gasp and blab on and on while Derek sucks and swallows down around him, and _okay Derek time to come back to reality before you pop a boner in front of your employees_.

“—and I’m sorry, you really need to stop me,” Stiles finally comes to a halt. “Seriously, sometimes I just go off on tangents, and it’s totally okay for you to be like, ‘Stiles, shut up.’”

Derek grins at the man. “Duly noted. Have you, ah, been shown where you’ll be working?”

Stiles shakes his head and Derek nods, relieved that he has something to do instead of just imagine Stiles and sex. Sex with Stiles. Stiles—

Dammit, it’s like he’s a high schooler again. Derek just really needs to get laid, and quickly, or else he’s going to be making serious business blunders with Stiles around to distract him like this.

Maybe he just needs to get accustomed to Stiles’ presence. Maybe after a few days, everything will be under control and he and Stiles will assume a proper and appropriate assistant-boss-office-friendship-relationship-type-thing.

Yeah, real eloquent.

“Alright, just follow me.”

He shows Stiles the desk he’ll be working at and gives him a few minutes to settle in, during which he stops into Boyd’s office (where he and Laura are discussing a file with their faces suspiciously close to one another) and makes a bunch of motions at Laura that pretty much say _you’re the worst sister ever_ and _I’m going to tell Boyd all your dirty secrets when you start dating_.

Laura, in return, gives him her favorite pitying stare, which says, _aw, you’re so cute when you think you’re right/can win this/better than me/all of the above_.

Derek must have been a major asshole in his past life. Like, someone who pulls scams on animal rights organizations or something, because there is no way he could have been a nice person and still have managed to end up with Laura Hale as his sister. 


	3. On and On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles? He’s great, but what does that have to do with romance?”
> 
> “Don’t pretend like you don’t wanna hit that. Multiple times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooooooooo I posted it hours later than I said I would, but it's still Thursday!!!
> 
> Sorry I had auditions today and blah blah blah
> 
> [writing tumblr](http://drabbledreams.tumblr.com/) and a [regular](http://fadedhues.tumblr.com/) blah blah 
> 
> the final chapter is going up on Saturday!! It'll be the longest one, and oh my god, there will be SO MUCH SEX. Okay, maybe not like, glorious amounts, but sex. More than so far. Actual sex. Yes. 
> 
> So um comments really motivate me so maybe comment?? Yeah okay bye enjoy!!!
> 
> *I am trying to reply to all the comments but there's so many omg and it's my bedtime I'll reply to them after I post the last part Saturday ahahaha I'm so lazy omg

Derek is quickly learning things about Stiles. Stiles is quick-witted and has a dry, biting sense of humor. He likes putting pens and pen caps and lollipops and pretty much _everything_ in his mouth; he likes his coffee with way more sugar than Derek likes in his; he’s constantly in motion, jiggling his legs or tapping his feet or letting his hands fly around as he speaks.

Stiles and Scott have formed a really good friendship really quickly, and Derek is almost jealous. _Almost_.

Come on, it’s not like Derek is _inept_. He’s pretty well-put together and over the death of his parents (he was ten when they died in a car accident. Don’t misunderstand—there are nights when Derek is struck with this crippling feeling of hopelessness, this sadness that takes hold of his heart and wraps itself around his soul; he cries for a little bit and then calls Laura. They usually go to the pizza place by his apartment and then she snarks at him until his stomach is burning and he can’t swallow his food, too busy laughing. But he’s moved on as much as anyone who has lost their parents can), and yeah, he can be pretty sarcastic, but he’s certainly not _mean_ (the interns may tell you differently, but dammit, Derek just _really fucking hates interns_ ).

So why the hell won’t Stiles talk to him more often?

This is the question that is burning the inside of his mind when Laura bursts in—“You look constipated. Are you thinking? You know what happens when you do too much of that,” she teases, eyes glinting, and he rolls his eyes (but smiles all the same).

She leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms, and Derek drawls, “May I help you?”

“Actually,” Laura steps in and shuts the door, “for once, yes.”

“‘Don’t be a psych major,’ they said,” he mutters to himself. “‘Running the business with Laura and Peter will be fun,’ they said.”

Laura wrinkles her nose. “Come on, Der, you would have been an awful psych major. You’re emotionally constipated as is—”

“Do you realize that this is the second time you’ve used the word ‘constipated’ in one conversation?” Derek asks, leaning forward and settling his forearms on the open file.

Laura continues, ignoring him (as per the norm), “I mean, if you can’t even understand your own emotions, how would you be able to understand other people’s?”

“Fine, alright, this was the correct career choice, I love my job, I’m having so much fun, blah blah blah,” Derek groans, “can we continue?”

Laura evens her stare at him (this one isn’t as much annoyed as it seems to be analyzing him, so Derek’s not worried. He probably should be, though. Every time Laura throws open his office door, something bad is usually on her heels) and purses her lips. She adjusts the sleeve of her blue shirt that fades to green as it goes down (“It’s _ombre_ , Derek!” she had told him when she bought it, like she had expected him to know what the hell that meant. “H’okay,” he had told her) and stays silent.

“Laura,” he finally says, pointedly looking at the huge stack of paperwork he has on his desk, knowing that she understands he means _get the hell on with it do you not see the shitton of work I have left?_

“So Boyd and I are about to be Facebook official and he said that if I didn’t tell you then he was going to send you flowers and a card and break it to you that way okay nice chat keep working lil’ bro!” The words tumble out of her mouth so quickly that Derek only really catches “Boyd, official, flowers,” which is enough for him to piece together her sentence (he’s not just a pretty face, okay?).

Laura’s hand is on the door handle when Derek commands (alright, maybe not _commands_ —“command” is never the right way to deal with Laura. More like “loudly and promptly _requested_ ,” but you know, potatoes and whatnot), “Stop!”

She freezes and slowly turns around with a large grin plastered on her face. It’s her fakest smile, the one she reserves for meetings with “misogynistic assholes who think that I can’t properly head a company just because I wear a skirt short enough to make them think things that they later feel guilty about when they kiss their wives” (her words). “Yes?” Her tone is Southern sweet tea-sweet (which, by the way, is _way_ too sweet; makes Derek’s tongue feel thick with the coating of sugar).

“What was that?” He knows the answer, of course. But Derek Hale _is_ human; humans inherently want to flaunt faults of others when they themselves are correct.

Laura opens her eyes wide, a picture of innocence. “What was _what_?” Derek stares her down (his glares are really good. He did, after all, learn from the best) until she sighs and admits, “Yeah, okay, Boyd and I are a thing.”

“Huh, imagine that,” Derek replies good-naturedly. “Hmm, I think someone called that. Oh, right, _me_.”

“Shut the hell up,” she tells him, but she’s laughing. “Hey, speaking of romance—” Oh God, she’s using her fingers to trace a heart in the air, _where is she going with this_ —“How’s Stiles?”

“Um? Stiles?”

Laura leans forward, eyes glinting. “Did I _stutter_?”

An almost maniacal kind of laughter bubbles out of Derek’s throat. _Stay casual, stay casual. She can smell fear, Derek._ “Stiles? He’s great, but what does that have to do with romance?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t wanna hit that. Multiple times.”

“Laura, _I do not_.”

Laura sashays over to the door and rests her hand on the door knob. “Whatever, little brother, I am well aware of the _throne of lies you sit upon_.” She closes the door shut behind her, and Derek can hear her brightly say, “Bye, Stiles!” to the man at his desk outside of Derek’s office.

“What?” he asks the ceiling, because his life is a mess and _he’s been hunched over his desk for a few hours now;_ _man, this feels good._ His neck is _really_ hurting, damn.

Derek needs a nice massage. Or sex. Sex is a good stress reliever. Sex with Stiles would probably be nice. Stiles folded over his desk, Stiles in his lap, Stiles’ back against his chest as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts and—

There’s a knock on his door and Derek jumps a little as Stiles walks in. “Uh, hey, Derek, you know you have a conference tomorrow, right?”

Derek stares at him. “What?”

Stiles nervously peers at the notebook in his hands. “I mean, I could definitely be wrong, but it says here—”

“No, fuck, you’re right,” Derek interrupts. “It just—it just totally slipped my mind. I, uh—I had booked my assistant to go with me, so that means you’re coming, but I can get someone else to if you don’t—”

“No!” Stiles breaks in, then flushes. “I, uh, it’ll be good experience. You know. Need as much as I can get.”

“Right,” Derek answers slowly, because he does not need to think about _Stiles_ and _experience_. _Stop that_. “Um, we’ll probably leave around nine, so just come in at your normal time tomorrow.”

Stiles cheerfully replies, “Got it!” and shuts the door.

Derek drops his head into his hands, because _great_ , a whole day out at a business conference with the most distracting person _ever_.

Okay. All he needs to do is figure out a way not to make a fool of himself by getting distracted by Stiles.

Right. Easy.

Seriously, Derek _fucked up_ in his past life.


	4. Out of My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So… how’s your weekend been going?” he asks, feeling incredibly stupid, but he’s not the best conversationalist to begin with, and now he’s extremely horny, so it’s really no wonder that he sounds like a dumbass.
> 
> But then Stiles grins widely and tells him, “Yesterday was boring, but I’m about to get laid, so my day is substantially better than it was earlier,” and Derek feels a lot better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I promise sex? -sobs- I'm so bad at writing it. And it's 12:49 AM, which means there's bound to be a mistake. 
> 
> AND. I SAID I'D HAVE IT DONE SATURDAY, BUT IT'S OFFICIALLY SUNDAY. -YELLS AT THE CEILING-
> 
> I'M SO SORRY 
> 
> ANYWAYS. I'm really amazed by the response this got, and I'm sorry if the ending is shitty (like, REALLY KAT, A CLUB SCENE? A CLUB? I just like taking the easy way out okay goddammit). This started off as a simple 1k oneshot, but I got so many comments that I just HAD to continue. 
> 
> Seriously, you guys are awesome (good, it makes up for me not being awesome sigh).
> 
> I have a writing [tumblr](http://drabbledreams.tumblr.com/), where I talk about what I'm writing (I have a Sterek fic planned and I'm so excited to start it, you guys doN'T EVEN KNOW) and take requests and do ficlets, and a regular [tumblr](http://fadedhues.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Comments are muchhhhhhhhhhhhhh appreciated!
> 
> (I'm sorry.)

It’s three months later, and Derek’s feelings/urges are only marginally more controlled.

The day of the conference, Derek had woken up with a plan in mind. He was going to get over his incredible urge to _just bend Stiles over_ by… focusing on how _annoying_ he is (not that Stiles is or was _annoying_ , per se, but everyone has _something_ about them that makes Derek irrationally angry. That’s just how he is).

Doing this, of course, had required Derek to pay even more attention to Stiles than he had before.

Yeah, Stiles talks a lot, which can be slightly annoying. And he’s always fucking drumming on stuff. And he’s really kind of argumentative and snarky and short-tempered (but Derek’s one to talk, right?).

While those are things that maybe bug Derek, it’s just who Stiles is. And on top of that, he’s learned more about Stiles, like how Stiles is apparently inept at drinking from a straw ( _like, what is he even doing with this tongue?_ ) and really likes puppies and helps out his friends however and whenever he can.

So really, the only thing Derek has gotten out of this is a full-blown cascade of stupid feelings that he wishes he could just turn off. It’s becoming a problem.

On the upside, it’s Saturday, which means no work, which means no Stiles, which means _no constant thrum of sexual frustration_. Derek is eating cereal (just because it’s seven in the evening doesn’t mean he can’t eat breakfast foods) on his couch when his phone rings.

It’s Laura, _surprise surprise_.

Derek momentarily wonders if he and Laura are maybe _too_ close (seriously, Derek sees her, on average, six days a week. Mind you, five of those are due to work, but _still_ ) before answering, “What?”

“Buzz me up, dumbass,” is the reply.

Derek glances at the intercom next to the door. “Oh, I didn’t hear it go off.”

“I figured, because the only reason you wouldn’t let me up otherwise is if I had done something to make you mad, and I haven’t teased you about how in love you are with your assistant for a good two days, so I knew it couldn’t have been that.”

Derek sets his bowl down on his coffee table and frowns. “I thought you _wanted_ me to buzz you in, Laura.”

“I do,” is all she says, but the _so do it you fucking dumbass_ is implied.

Derek gets up and buzzes her in, at the same time hanging up.

“Rude,” she tells him when he opens the door a few minutes later.  She shoulders past him and sets her stuff down on his kitchen counter.

“Um.” Derek takes in Laura’s outfit—black heels and a short, tight ( _too tight, way too tight_ , his brotherly instincts yell) black dress with a kind of pink net overlay. It’s a nice dress, but Derek would probably like it a lot more if it had straps and was about five inches longer. “Why are you dressed like you’re going to a club?”

“Because I am, duh,” she retorts, as though it should have been obvious (which, yeah, it is).

“And you’re here because…?” He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms.

“You need my help getting dressed, or else you’ll probably just wear a dumb t-shirt and jeans.” She flaps a hand haphazardly at him.

“Getting dressed to go to the club.”

Laura beams at him. “Now you’re getting it!”

“Except,” he says slowly, “I’m not going.”

“Ah,” she wags a finger at him, “I think you might be mistaken.”

Derek can feel a pounding headache coming. Where did his nice, quiet Saturday evening go? “I don’t think so.” He rubs his temples and sighs.

“Got a headache, there, Der? Must be all that thinking. We’ve talked about this.” She raises an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“No, I think it’s—”

“There you go _thinking_ again,” Laura interrupts him, holding a hand out, palm facing him. “Stop that. Just, for one night, can you just listen to me and stop thinking? Just have fun?” She juts her lower lip out and widens her eyes. “For me?” Derek opens his mouth to reply and she quickly adds, “And in case _that_ isn’t enough incentive—which, by the way, _ouch_ —everyone’s going to be there.”

By everyone, she means the usual crowd—Boyd, Erica, Lydia, Scott, etc.

“Is that supposed to make me _want_ to go?” he asks, because he loves his friends (some are closer to him than others, but he’ll grudgingly admit, he’s friends with the lot of them), but they’re sometimes a lot to deal with.

Laura sets a hand on his shoulder and gets up in his face. “Derek,” she says slowly, like he’s stupid (no comment, please), “ _everyone_ will be there.” She steps back and moves her fingers in the shape of a heart, mouthing, _everyone_ , and then he gets it.

_Everyone will be there._

_Stiles_ will be there.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh,” she drawls, and then pivots on her black stilettos and stalks towards his bedroom. “You stand there while your brain short-circuits; I’ll be picking out some clothes that’ll make Stiles want to lick you or something.”

Derek glares at her, but she’s already in his room. Getting Laura to give up on this would be a lost cause, so he plops back down on the couch and watches TV until she reappears a few minutes later and tosses a shirt and a pair of jeans at him. “I hope you have good food in your fridge,” she calls from the kitchen (the _or you’ll be sorry_ is, of course, implied).

He gets dressed in his bedroom and observes himself. His reflection stares back unimpressed—it’s not like he looks any different. His jeans are a little tighter than he’s used to (but still definitely not skinny jeans) and his shirt (the teal Henley Laura had bought him for a birthday many years ago) fits tightly across his chest, but it’s not like he went through a transformation.

Laura does, however, hum in approval when he walks into the living room. “Very nice. We’ve got a good hour, which you could spend making me some food.”

“Or I could watch TV.”

“ _Or_ you could be a good host and make your guest some food.”

“ _Or_ you could shut the hell up and order some pizza,” he snarks, sitting next to her.

“You’re such an asshole,” she mutters as he grabs the remote from her hands.

“Well, we _are_ related.”

“A fact which I bemoan every day,” she shoots back and goes back into the kitchen.

\--

Laura was right. Everyone’s here, shoving drinks into his hands and yelling at him to “have a good time.” And it’s noisy and loud and dark and… not really Derek’s scene, honestly. But Stiles—Stiles looks like he’s in his element, yelling and jumping and dancing and drinking.

After the first thirty minutes or so, the group had kind of split up and dispersed throughout the crowd, and Derek somehow found himself with Stiles, whose ass is currently plastered to Derek’s crotch.

Stiles turns around and steps back, still moving to the music, and he’s—fuck, he’s looking at him like he’s in a desert and Derek is the only oasis for miles and miles around.

Stiles looks like he wants to devour Derek, sweat gleaming on his face, eyes beaming, and then he licks his lips and grabs Derek by the neck and yanks him to his lips. The kiss is sloppy and they’re both breathing harshly and sweating, but god, it’s good, it’s _so good_ , and Derek’s hands slide from Stiles’ back to his ass and he pulls him even closer.

Stiles tastes like vodka and strawberries and Derek really wants more, wants Stiles under him and on him. He breaks the kiss and growls in Stiles’ ear, “Come home with me,” and Stiles’ hands tighten on his waist and he presses their lips together again.

When the two jump into a cab, Derek has to tell himself not to touch Stiles. He’s not going to make out with Stiles in back of a taxi; he has _some_ control.

“So… how’s your weekend been going?” he asks, feeling incredibly stupid, but he’s not the best conversationalist to begin with, and now he’s extremely horny, so it’s really no wonder that he sounds like a dumbass.

But then Stiles grins widely and tells him, “Yesterday was boring, but I’m about to get laid, so my day is substantially better than it was earlier,” and Derek feels a lot better.

When they get into Derek’s apartment, Stiles presses Derek into the door and— _shit_ , he drops to his knees and gets Derek’s pants and briefs down and pooled around his ankles, and before he can even fully process what’s happening, Stiles is _licking Derek’s dick holy shit_.

Stiles takes Derek into his mouth and Derek closes his eyes, leaning his head on the door. Stiles pulls off and says, “No, I want you to look at me,” and well, what is Derek gonna do, say _no_?

He stares at Stiles as Stiles continues sucking his cock, and it’s good—fantastic, actually (Derek’s always imagined that Stiles was good at head, but _damn_ , this is even better than he had pictured), but Derek isn’t going to last for much longer, so he tells him, “Wait, wait, I’m not gonna last.”

Stiles pulls off, spit and precome clinging to his lips, and Derek hauls him up and kisses him thoroughly, tasting himself. He drags him into the bedroom and pushes Stiles towards the bed. Stiles strips as Derek goes through the drawers in his nightstand, grabbing the condoms and lube he keeps there.

Stiles clambers onto the bed and demands, “Fuck me,” and _yeah, okay_ , Derek would only be happy to comply.  Stiles gets on his hands and knees, and Derek admires the view before Stiles snorts and says, “I’d tell you to take a picture, but I don’t let it get _that_ far until a good six months in.” Derek grins and lightly smacks Stiles’ ass, and he jerks forward a little in surprise. Derek opens the cap of the lube bottle and coats his fingers in it. He circles Stiles’ hole with his forefinger before pushing in slowly, and Stiles tenses, letting out a little moan, and then relaxes himself around Derek’s finger. Derek kisses Stiles’ back as he adds a second finger and then a third when Stiles tells him to, harsh and demanding.

“I’m ready, I’m good, just hurry up,” Stiles tells him, so Derek puts the condom on, slicks himself up, and then slowly slides into Stiles.

Stiles is tight and hot and the friction is amazing, and Derek inches his way in. When he bottoms out, he stays there and nips Stiles’ shoulder.

“You _fucker_ ,” Stiles snarls, and Derek grins and then drags himself out a little; Stiles huffs and is probably about to demand _more_ when Derek snaps his hips forward, making Stiles moan. Derek pounds into him until Stiles is steadily making noise, babbling, “Keep going, don’t you _dare_ fucking slow down, keep going, fuck, _fuck_ , yes, don’t stop,” and Stiles is flushing and sweating and Derek can feel that he’s really, _really_ close, so he reaches around and grabs Stiles’ cock and pumps him one, two, three times. Stiles tenses around him as he comes, a stream of words falling from his lips, and Derek keeps going. Stiles pushes back against him and tightens around him as he moves his hips in a circular motion, and that does it. Derek squeezes Stiles’ hips as he comes, falling forward into Stiles’ back.

He slowly pulls out, then takes the condom off and tosses it into the trashcan next to his bed. Stiles grabs some tissues from the tissue box on the nightstand and cleans himself off, and the two crawl under the covers.

There’s a lot of really good sex the next day, too, paired with a lot of good food. Derek finds that Stiles looks good in his apartment—sitting next to him on the couch, leaning against the kitchen counter, splayed across his bed; it feels like he fits.

Derek walks into work on Monday not dreading the day (which hasn’t happened in a while). Stiles rushes past him and then doubles back, blabbing about Greenberg handling the wrong accounts and having to get them so Boyd can look at them. He stops, takes a deep breath, and grins at Derek. “Hi!” He leans forward and presses their lips together before pulling away and taking off with a, “Bye!” thrown over his shoulder.

 Laura appears by his side and smirks at him. “Did you have a nice weekend?” she inquires, eyebrows raised, and Derek rolls his eyes. “You owe me big time, you know?”

Derek watches Stiles’ retreating form and admits, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“God, you’re so in love. It’s sickening,” she complains. 


End file.
